Bon Viveur

Since the last missive published in early April, Nancy's world has changed forever. Firstly, she has taken her first steps into educational institutionalisation having been accepted into her first choice school - her father having wistfully noted the lack of a racehorse and Latin motto as a sign of the times - and is eagerly awaiting her teddy bear's picnic to aid her cultural acclamation.  Secondly, while unaware of the dark clouds massing over the UK, she, like us all, is faced with five more years of a government that stands diametrically opposed to her unshakeable mantra of "caring is sharing." However, in keeping with current trends I'm trying to make her more up to date by transmogrifying her mantra into "aspiration is perspiration" or some other suitably mean spirited nonsense. I've digressed from the core purpose of this blog which is to update you all on her progress in all things ridiculous.

From the chuddy morass of youth, has emerged quite a lovely beast with an eye for the comedic. Whilst watching Shark, wherein a camoflaged shark devoured a helpless fish having been lying in wait, Nancy with the comic timing that would put Bobby Davro to shame, simply looked at her mother and said "It didn't see that coming." Which rather tickled us.  She is also developing a strong sense of deal making, which in the context of the ever accelerating global race, can only be a good thing. On being old last night she could only have one more episode of Tinga Tinga she replied "What about five more and then no more? - Deal?" at which point her father intervened and said no, Nancy immediately said "5 more and lets shake on it" at which point she marched over to me and tried to force her hand on me. Suffice it to say I won and no more episodes were viewed. But I'm sure this rank injustice won't be forgotten by Nancy and in 6 months down the line it will be brought up in another conversation to underpin the calamity of her life and leverage some cake out of her father.

In many respects, living with Nancy is akin to living with a slightly incontinent spy agency. She is passively present in hundreds of conversations and is constantly absorbing information withou regard for its provenance or reliability. And then at a random moment some gem will emerge from Nancy about a conversation she overheard 6 months ago and what it might mean. Like the NSA, you have to assume that at all times anything you say is being absorbed by Nancy to be used against you at some hitherto undefined date in the future. You have been warned.

Oh and she can pretty much read. Which is very bizarre but pretty lovely. It won't be long before I'll be able to hand over this blog to her and she can post her own gnomic utterances. Which will probably come as a relief to you all.

Apropos the dark clouds massing, one is pleased to see that even in these bleak moments life is not without a deep, impenetrable sense of irony.

Enjoy the Nancy. Bienvenue!

I am King of Tinga Tinga. Who are YOU?

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